“They won’t let me go home. I can’t talk to my mommy and daddy.”
I bite my lip and strain to hold back tears. It’s like she’s completely broken. She notices the tension in my expression and starts to cry softly.
“I want to go home. I hate this place. I keep dreaming that thing is back.”
“What thing?”
“With the sword. It was a demon from hell. I saw it. I saw what it did to those men who were going to hurt us. You didn’t look but I looked. I looked.”
Suddenly her arms are around me. I pull her head to my shoulder and let her sob into my stupid poofy princess dress.
“Why did this happen? I didn’t want this. I only wanted to help people. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I want to go home, Penny. Will he listen to you? Ask him to let us go home.”
I can’t make myself lie to her, but I don’t want to tell her the truth.
“I hate it here. Please.”
I hold her tighter and let her sob until she quiets down.
“I don’t understand why God is punishing me.”
“He’s not,” I tell her. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Her voice changes a little. She sounds more like herself, but the question turns my bones to ice.
“Penny, are we in hell?”
“No, we’re in Kosztyla. They’re… They’re keeping us here for our safety.” I bite off the words, resenting every syllable. “We’ll be able to go home soon.”
I stroke her hair and lean my chin on her head until her breathing grows more even and she stops crying. She falls back on the pillows and covers her eyes with her hands.
“I’m sorry, Penny. Just listen to me. I’m losing it. I can’t take it much longer. I need to get out of here. I want my mom. I just want to hear her voice. Please.”
“I’ll see what I can do. I can’t stay.”
“I’ll pray for you,” she says with an earnestness that gives me shivers. “I pray he doesn’t hurt you.”
“I don’t think he will.”
“He’s evil.”
“I know.”
I stand up and hold her hands for a moment and try to look strong, but I’m going to end up on the floor myself if I don’t get outside. I try not to rush into the hall until the door closes.
As it clicks shut I fall back against the wall and slide down to plop on the floor and stare at nothing.
“Persephone?”
“Don’t,” I say coldly. I look up at him. “Was this supposed to impress me? It’s a nice prison, but it’s still a prison.”
“She needs psychological care.”
“She needs to talk to her mother.”
“I already explained this to you,” he says, clearly fighting to keep his voice even. “If I let either of you leave you will be in mortal danger.”
I point at the door. “That isn’t mortal danger? She’s going nuts in there. She needs real help, not whatever you’re doing to her. How can you be this cruel?”
I look around the hallway and blink a few times. The guards, a couple doctors and nurses, and a few orderlies are all staring at me wide eyed, like they just saw me give birth to a live chicken.
“Get up,” he says coldly. “Do not say another word unless spoken to.”
Shakily I lean on the bench and rise. He takes my arm and pulls me to my feet, not roughly but firmly.
“I was right about you,” I say very softly. “Completely right.”
“What did she ask you for?”
“To convince you to let her leave.”
He looks past me, at the door. “That will not happen.”
“Then let her talk to her family. Please. I’m begging you. She’s been through a lot. She needs to hear a familiar voice. She’s not a machine, my prince. You can’t just have them put her back together like repairing a broken generator.”
He bites his lip. On anyone else, it would almost be endearing.
I lower my voice even further.
“If you could talk to your mother, would you?”
The prince flinches, as if I’d hit him.
“My mother is dead,” he says coldly.
He snaps his fingers, and barks a rapid order in Kosztylan at the orderly who approaches, eyes downcast. The man nods and darts off, and the prince stands there, waiting. I put my fists on my hips and wait alongside him, wondering what he’s going to inflict on me now.
The orderly comes back carrying a cordless phone on a plastic tray, the kind they might use to serve dinner.
The prince takes it and hands it to me.
“I am told you will have to dial nine for an outside line. Call her parents. Then take the phone in to her. When she is done, bring it to me. Do not let them hang up until I speak to them.”
I stare at him, wide eyed, and then quickly dial. Someone shouts at me in Kosztylan on the other end. I didn’t hit nine first. I try again and listen to the phone ringing. A tired voice answers.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Petersen? Is this Melissa’s mom?”
“I…” she yawns. “Yes, who is this?”
“My name is Penny. I’m—”
“Oh my God, are you the other girl? The one who went missing with my daughter? Where is she? Where are you?”